Chikai
by aki konoe
Summary: there's angst, angst, and more angst! Muahahaha! it's a TsuXHisoka thing, and it kinda delves (jeez, deep word) into the two shingami's feelings... yeah, yeah, everybody else makes good loves stories, but this one's more on angst...
1. Part One

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**_Chikai_**

** Part**** One **

_"---'O that infected moisture of his eye_

_O that false fire which his cheek so glowed_

_O that forced thunder from his heart did fly,_

_O that sad breath his spongy lungs bestowed,_

_O all that borrowed motion seeming owed_

_Would yet again betray the fore-betrayed,_

_And new pervert a reconcilèd maid.'"_

Thud.

And the book closed to a shut.

Silence was once again, the ruler of the empty library. Well, not entirely empty, what with the books and the files the Gushoushins kept orderly and neatly stacked in bookcases, and the seeminlgy exhausted somebody who was still sitting underneath a sun-basked window, letting the wind blow through his equally bleached hair, and the eternal spring that was encased in a rough sketch of lush lashes was once again torn away from the view the window provided. His haughty attitude still active, he remembered that he was not finished berating this particular brunnette who could never contain his silence---and the budget to a minimum---and he was thinking of a new string of rebuttals when he finally glanced at the dazzling trees that never ceased to flower.

Meifu.

The beauty it held was. . .timeless, for want of a better word.

"If only I was born later," The exhausted youth whispered to himself, as he fiddled with the small paperback copy he found on one of the reading tables. "Then I might be able to find a good use with this." He stared pointedly at the woman on the cover, with the big hair and the big collar, which the women in the 1600s sported, in Europe, that is.

**SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS**

Who left an English book there? He really wasn't surprised that their library had English books, and Amercan books, but to find a book of poems that talked about how a certan poet's friend failed and achieved love was rare.

"There you are!"

The youth jumped up from his seat and was about to pounce on the said intruder since his brain was flashing, BEWARE, in neon red, and as soon as he saw that it was only Terazuma who had opened the door and disturbed his dark musings, he calmed down and the lights were green again.

"Kachou's looking for you, and I don't think he's pleased."

Well, Hisoka thought, it comes with the job. His partner was in trouble, as he had presumed at the start of their case yesterday, which they had only finished today, and he was the one who has to explain again. . .as usual. . .like always. . .

"Alright," He grunted and he absentmindedly tucked the paperback copy in his denim jacket as he walked his way to the door. Terazuma shuffled his way ahead of Hisoka; the dark cloud above the boy's head was getting ominously bigger and bigger by the moment.

"I can't believe this," His hand shot up to his temples as he leaned his elbow on the desk for support. His other hand was clutching a thirty-page report of the case he handed to his supposedly-best-in-the-division Shinigami yesterday, and by the looks of it. . .he was ready to chew off Tsuzuki's head--even if he was supposedly the best.

There was a knock on the door and he looked up, in time to see Kurosaki Hisoka's head pop in from behind the door. He was looking as vacuous as always, and he would have looked like a walking doll if his eyes didn't have that certain light in them.

"Sir?"

Konoe gave a sigh, and motioned for Kurosaki to come in.

"Is this about Tsuzuki again?" He asked as he approached the table.

"As a matter of fact, yes," Konoe said. He settled the papers in front of him, and pushed them towards Kurosaki to read. "Your. . .uh. . .report, is rather. . ." He fumbled for a word, and when he couldn't find any, Kurosaki supplied him with the word he really meant to say.

"Infuriating?" Kuroskai tilted his head a little to his left as he picked up the papers from the desk.

"Well, yes," Konoe said. He swung his chair and stood up. "Anyone would be if one of his Shinigami blows up five buildings, In two weeks! I don't care if they're small, but Tsuzuki's getting way out of hand!" He finally said. He walked his way to the window and let out another sigh.

Why does Hisoka put up with this?

"Why do I put up with this?" Hisoka mumbled under his breath and cleared his throat. "Kachou, I am truly sorry, but I do, _we_ do try not to," Your partner's fault is your fault too, Tatsumi would always say, and Hisoka had no choice but to face Kachou for Tsuzuki. Besides, Tsuzuki always disappears nowadays after a case. It should strike Hisoka that this was beginning to be a bit odd, but he brushed the thought once again as he spoke.

"I'm sure that the budget---"

"Is shot down and we are currenly suffering problems, serious financial problems, actually, due to his lack of concern on this issue. Word has been sent to us that EnmaDaiOh himself will be giving us a warning, today, if not tomorrow, and he will see _us_ in a meeting." Konoe turned around and looked at Kurosaki. "I'm not blaming you for these, Kurosaki, but partly it is your duty to keep him from doing so."

"But he doesn't listen to me anyway!" Hisoka finally burst out. "Have you noticed him nowadays?! He doesn't even want to look at me! He doesn't even interact with me! And I don't have a clue why! All he does is take the case, ignore me, and then go to that stupid, crappy, good-for-nothing bars down in Chijou, for heaven's sake!" Hisoka half-screamed, his hands flailing at his sides, as if doing so would get some of the images he saw from last week when he tried to trace Tsuzuki with his empathy, back to show Kachou his point. He was about to add that he was having hook-ups lately and that he was extremely beyond himself as he saw how those sluts wrapped their arms around him and how they smiled and kissed and could his brain stop thinking about it to save himself from a heart attack he might die from---again? He could feel a nerve throbbing with anger and he restrained hismelf from grabbing Kachou by the shoulders and shake the facts, the _real_ facts into his brain.

Konoe just looked at him with a disbelieveing stare and shook his head.

"I-I-I'm sorry, Kachou," Hisoka bent his head and suddenly, his shoes were so interesting to look at. He stuck his hands in his jean pockets and apologised again. His shoes has some blood stains here and there, he noticed, and he might have a hard time taking that out with soap and water. His sneakers were, after all, white---a Christmas gift (but it feels like guilt gift) from Mr. Tsuzuki Asato last year, since he accidentally threw out Hisoka's old ones, with the thought that the boy wouldn't miss them since they were old.

"It's alright, Kurosaki-kun. . .You didn't need to tell me," Konoe gazed outsidse the window once again, and watched as the sakura trees showered a certain entity, casting a lone shadow on the bridge from where he stood, with its petals and glanced at Kurosaki for a while.

"I know." Konoe said.

"What do you mean---?" Hisoka trailed off. He wasn't quite sure he was following Kachou's words. He tore his eyes away from his sneakers, and placed them on Kachou, confusion clear in them.

"Your'e not the only one who noticed, Kurosaki-kun," And for a while, Kachou's years looked as if they were showing through, and he looked old---very old, indeed. And once again, he gazed outside and watched as the entity fell on the ground, its shoulders shaking ever so slightly, and the ebony coat flaring slightly in the wind.

**to**** be continued. . .**

**_Chikai_**

(Close)

_by__ Aki Konoe_

**Plotmaster****/s:** Aki Konoe

**Beta-master/s:** Aki Konoe

**Disclaimer/s:** I own nothing---even my life.

**Author's Note/s: **I intended it to be a one-shot, short and dark. (Sorry, I don't really write happy stories and happy-endings.)

I failed.

I think it was the Pringles I was eating. . . or the Rice Krispies. . .or the choclate syrup. . .or the Honey, Oats, and Cereal. . .or. . .or . . .Utada Hikaru's song ( I forgot the title) for Kingdom Hearts playing at the back of my head even though my CD player was playing Switchfoot that night. . .

Anyways, I might just get to the point of my story. . .but for now, I won't say anything else but 'Please don't kill me'.

Reviews please! It'll make me happy.


	2. Part Two

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**Part Two **

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_'Your love and pitydoth th'impression fill_

_Which vulgar sacndal stamped upon my brow;_

_For what care I who calls me well or ill,_

_So o'er-green my bad, my good allow?_

_You are my all the world, and I must strive_

_To know my shames and praises from your tongue---_

_None else to me, nor I to none alive,_

_That my steeled sense or changes, right or wrong._

_In so profound abysss I throw all care_

_Of others' voices that my adder's sense_

_To critic and to flatter stoppèd are._

_Mark how with my neglect I do dispense:_

_ You are so strongly in my purpose bred_

_ That all the world besides, methinks, they're dead._

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"_Muzukashii,_" Tsuzuki had said. "_Muzukashii!_" Is all he could say; or rather, try to reason out to his companion that night, as lips met lips. He was a bit drunk, which was his state almost every night after work, and he doesn't even know why he even bothers to go down to Chijou and surround himself with that surreal picture in every bar he goes to. It was another day of work; he had just finished a case and now he was sulking again.

Drinking, was more like it, actually.

It all started out as usual. He starts to get drunk, and next thing he knows, he's talking to osme stranger or to some girl or hooker or whatever. Why does he even bother anyway? Why is this rhethorical question still rhethorical? Why are things so fucking hard, he thought. If things were easy, his brain answered, then what use would your achievement be? No, no, that wasn't his brain, it was this girl. . .This girl with her little black dress, her tiny bag of glitter, and her silky hair of ebony embracing her curvaceous body. What is she even doing in this bar, with two empty shot glasses in front of her, another one half-empty, her long silky arms in front of her on the table. (he better rub his eyes now, its beginning to get a little hazy) He must've asked that question out loud, since she was smiling at him in that weird way, the look in her eyes telling him secrets of her own, but never revealing themselves out right.

"Aren't you gonna go home yet?" She asked him, while she flicked her cigarrette case open. "It's getting pretty late; your girl must be worried." She took one out and lighted it; she inhaled deep, and blew out almost sexily, if it weren't for the sake swimming in his head.

"Girl? What girl?" He huffed.

She raised an eyebrow and smiled even wider. "What's a guy like you doing without a girl?"

"I told you, he doesn't even care," He suddenly burst out.

"Guy?" She blinked. "Interesting. . .Tell me, are you straight?" She faced him now, her full attention fixed on him now.

"Huh? No. . ."

"Bi?"

"Whatever you call it. . ." He shurgged.

They both fell silent as she stared at him, her cigarrette lay neglected in the ashtray the bartender had placed beside her not too long ago. He noticed her staring and returned the gaze. . .She must've said something, or he must've said or done something, because the next thing he knew, he was lying on a bed, with a very attractive girl beside him. He immediately got up and went home after that.

Last thing he thought before going home was, Oh shit.

Little did he know that tomorrow would hold him subject to a very painful headache, a heartache, and a lot of frustrations. And so, he would wake up a few hours later, groggy and he would be crying on his knees.

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Kurosaki Hisoka was not in the mood to talk to anyone later on that day. His mind was clearly preoccupied and he was seething like a cat that was obviously given a bath by its truly naive master of ribbons and dolls with soft curls embracing the lovely face. He was perpetually clutching a white-covered something, and he had this look of uncertainty on his face, lingering for a second or two, and was let go to be reborn as a scowl that could have killed the sakura tree that he was staring at. His shoulders were bunched up as he sat on the cool grass underneath the shadow of the sakura tree he was currently murdering with his death glare; the green eyes marred with perplexity and arrogance mostly seen in teenagers nowadays. He sat, legs outsrtetched and crossed at the ankles, his back leaned against the building wall, careless of everything around him. He had chosen a spot on where one could onyl see another individual underneatht he sahde and the distractions if they were to squint realy hard from a distance and walk over o make sure they weren't going crazy after someone high and mighty put a Death Seal on them. His flaxen hair riding along with thte wind, he was a sight utterly beautiful, not just to the bholder and the enthralled, but even to the most seductive serpentress, he would be the epitome of sin and adultery if one would set eyes on him now. (Minus the denim jacket and the orange shirt he oh-so-loved to wear, and minus the scowl, with lots of flower peatls adorning the bed one would love to lay him on, he would be the basis of not few wet dreams if ever they saw him liek that.)

Another individual had spied on him, by chance, or maybe not, and he was intrigued, once again, by the seriosness of the air surrounding the boy. His curiosity piqued, he turned away from the path he earlier wanted to take, on his way to a little researching down in Chijou. He let a sigh of exasperation as he brushed his own long locks of flaxen strands that dared to block his view of the young naivete and let an amused smile tug on his mouth. Hands placed innocently behind his back, with his companion hooting softly in his ear, he let his long legs walk him to the place where the empath sat himself, no regards or whatsoever with the world.

He could not help but feel, regretfully too, that he was slowly becoming a. . .voyeur. To be more blunt, a stalker.

"Ahem," He cleared his throat as he stopped inches away from where 'Soka-chan sat. Green eyes snapped up in ire and rested on him, his own hazel-brown eyes caressing them as they met each other's gaze. "It's a lovely day, isn't it?" He smiled wider, as he glanced at the clear blue of the sky.

It took Hisoka a minute or two before he answered, and a dry Yes came like the taste of a posicle stick you've been chweing on since you couldn't buy another ice cream pop because of the lack of money in your pocket.

"What do you want, Watari-san?" Hisoka spat as he continued murdering the aforementioned tree. He leaned against the building wall. His hands rested themselves on his lap, a frown marring his angelic face.

"I just wanted to say hello," The scientist said, and peered cheerfully through spectacled-eyes and his white lab coat fluttered in time witht he wind. "By the looks of it, you're not having a very good day, aren't you?" He asked, as he bent forward a little, a curious and pitying look on his face; he tilted his head to the side and waited.

"No," Hisoka admitted. He swallowed the lump in his throat the had been threatening release earlier after Kachou talked to him.

"May I?" Watari gestured suddenly to the younger Shingami's left (facing him) as Hisoka's head bent down and sagged in its joints; as desperate and furious look mingling in his face, unsure of what to feel and and what to express, and it turned into one of his signature scowls instead, as he looked up once more at Watari. Hisoka merely shurgged in reply.

Really now, what could have made this dear boy depressed?

Watari sat down beside him and amazingly, 'Soka-chan had let him place an arm around him, drwaing the younger one to the warmth of his chest and the nest of curly-blond hair, and soon, a shudder overcame Hisoka's shoulders, and a series of hiccups followed the raking sobs.

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He woke up at the usual time, at the usual place (should he have woken up somwehere else?) and in the usual manner he did as always. The only difference, was that nowadays, he had been sporting a series of (unfortunately) excruciatingly painful headaches that throbbed right through every bone and sinew that composed his body, and made him feel like he was a soggy piece of paper left too long under the rain and washed down the drain.

He had his head in his hands, firmly clutching his hair to keep himself from nodding into his paperwork. He hasn't had breakfast, he hasn't had any lunch, and everyone seems to be avoiding him, besides their secretary who kept hounding him since he came in that morning for the paperwork he should have turned in yesterday---which was the last day, supposedly for their other case three days before that day. His eyes were grazing every surface with a lazy rhythm and he almost knocked down the cup of coffee Wakaba-chan had left on his desk to at least help him with his headache and would 003 stop staring at him as if he was the worst person in the world? And where the heck did he come from all of a sudden? Shouldn't he be with Watari or something? Shouldn't he be doinf something else rather than stare at him like that?

Damn, he thought, I'm getting furious with a bird. He closed his eyes and let a sigh of annoyance. A shadow fell on his desk and as he looked up, a pair of dark blue eyes bore deep in his amethyst; the resigned nature of the newcomer was so natural to him, it was instinct, and he acknowledged the presence with an almost incoherent Hey, Tatsumi.

"I'm guessing you have a hangover." Came the dry statement of the obvious; arms crossed in front his vest and glasses perfectly placed on the bridge of his nose, he still reached a hand and pushed it higher in place, a manner in which everybody would be able to identfy as the thing their highly procclaimed kagetsukai's sign of dead seriousness.

Tsuzuki mumbled something. His mouth felt, oddly, like a huge ball of wet paper. It tasted like it too.

"Tsuzuki, if you show up like this everyday to work, you won't be able to accomplish anything even if you tried to," Tatsumi said, his voice still controlled.

"I'm sorry," Tsuzuki replied, almost forcibly, and shrugged his shoulders at Tatsumi. Only he could muster enough courage to actually _shrug_ his shoulders at their resident Kagetsukai, and only he could withstand the secretary's death-glare, raised to Level 3 for all he cares, and he would stand it everyday, if he had to, sicne he didn't plan on quitting his drinking. He didn't quite feel like it. Besides, his subconcious was the one talking fro him right now, and he wasn't sure how long he'd be able to give Tatsumi enough respect to keep his glasses on. For today, anyway.

"Sorry wouldn't cut it!" Tatsumi's voice hitched a tone higher, as his face turned into a scowl. He seemed to notice and his face regained its usual placid look and controlled his voice once again. "I'm just asking you to at least minimize the amount of liquor you actually gurgle down that throat of yours, enough for you to do your work the way you should be."

To Tsuzuki, tatsumi's voice started out as a live wire crackling in the crisp afternoon air, in summer, and it gradually became an incessant screaming in his head, and for a minute, he thought he would end up tackling Tatsumi to the ground and choke the kagetsuaki to a coma. In the middle of Tatsumi's statement, he had stood up and was facing the secretary with his full height. He was roughly as tall as Tatsumi, and the devilish glint his eyes must've thrown off some of Tatsumi's ever-so-cared-for composure, and he saw the light in those blue orbs falter a little.

"Why can't everybody leave me alone for a change?! You're not my fucking mother, and will you stop acting like one?! You're beginning to act like Hisoka!" He spat out. There. That was done. Wasn't that good? Wait. He just shouted at Tatsumi. _The_ Tatsumi Seichiro of the Shokan. The Kagetsukai. The Secretary... the...

"I would ignore the blatant confession, normally, but I think this is too persona that it comes in the way of your work. Tsuzuki, we need to talk." Tatsumi's voice was surprisingly calm, for someone who was insulted and shouted at.

Wakaba and Terazuma had scurred outside the door they had been there since the start of the conversation, and they had been too scared and uncertain to escape because, unfortunately for them, they could actually see and even _feel_ the shadows growing from Tatsumi's own, and the secretary's wrath was growing by the second; the shadows ere holding up obsidian knives, unbeknownst to Tsuzuki who sat there looking up at Tatsumi like any other guy with a hangover and feeling all angsty and shitty. So they did, and they were very happy to be able to. Tatsumi regarded them with no care in the corner of his eye as they did so.

Tsuzuki caught himself and sank in his chair, feeling his chest heaving up and down, theair unwilling to circulate through his veins and pump air in his heart. His cehst ached like hell, and his head throbbed like the vibration of a million cellphones and the crackling sound of electricity mixed with the sound of crumpling paper too loud to ignore was lingering in the back of his head. His hands trembled and he stared at them in defeat as a pair of arms surrounded his shoulders and helped him on his feet. Tatsumi's office seemed to be so inviting as they approached the open door, and as the door closed, a sob rose to his throat, and a miserable moan escaped his chest to hover in the air.

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**to be continued. . .**

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**_Chikai_**

(Close)

_by Aki Konoe_

**Plotmaster/s:** Aki Konoe

**Beta-master/s:** Aki Konoe

**Disclaimer/s:** I own nothing. Not even my soul.

**Translation/s:** _Muzukashii_---hard; difficult

**Author's Note/s:** You guys really thought I wasn't going to continue it, huh? Actually, I wasn't. I love leaving people hanging. And I love Cliffies (back off, they're mine!) Cliffhangers brighten all of my stories! Evil laughter

I think it was the Deftones that put me in gear tonight, when I wrote this (today is January 10, right? Right.) and I think it was the toasted bread that suppied me with the energy to type this from 9 pm to 11.30 (with an hour and a half in between because I talked to my best friend about my day, and also my 'brother' who reminded me to bnring his notebook tomorrow. . .) anyway, whatever the cause of me writing the sceond part, it's good, right? It worked. You guys liked it, so good.

So ta-ta for now, and if you beg me just right, I might actually type Part three right away. . . That is, if you praise me well enough.


	3. Part Three

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Chikai

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**Part Three**

_Lord, art thou at the table head above_

_Meat, medicine, sweetness, sparkling beauties, to_

_Enamor souls with flaming flakes of love,_

_And not my trencher, nor my cup o'erflow?_

_Ben't I a bidden guest? Oh! Sweat mine eye:_

_O'erflow with tears: Oh! Draw thy fountains dry._

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The ReflectionEdward Taylor

Throb it went.

Throb, throb, throb.

Like a million thousand hearts pounding incessantly in his brain. The kind of pounding that screams Help me in big, black, bold letters, in jagged speech balloons in mangas, with the inevitable SFX in hiragana. . .They do come in handy. They just appear at your side, and poof! Instant Heart Sound Effect! Dokun, dokun! How happy. Oh what joy. Callooh, callay, Oh Caroll Lewis, oh sir. Damn. His mind  
was wandering off again.

He does read books too, you know. He found it, relaxing, after a while. He thought it would work to forget, go to places, (as cliches offer when describing how reading books help, especially literature, to unravel the creative part of the biggest muscle we could never fill with enough knowledge and use it, even if we tried, in our body: the brain) and explore the imagination that kept dodging him when he tried to see. Well, it seems that a huge chunk of it, fell into the abyss as well. The abyss he too, fell into, as most people have these stupid abysses in their brains, and is that the way you spell the plural form of abyss? Mien Gott. He better stop thinking and talk. Poor Sei-Sei.

Well, Throb went his head.

That would be because he had been crying for, what, an hour or two? He thought it would help him, but that didn't work out well, did it now? Crying made his head throb a little bit harder, a little bit worse, and damn, he did forget about his hang over, but have mercy heavens, it came back to him and hit him when he started thinking about the girls, the bar, and he needs a drink now. A hard one. The kind that hits you good and makes you forget even your name and what you are and were.

Sigh.

Heartbreak and ire enveloped him like a nuclear bomb, trying to kill his immortal-ness, as if to tell him you're hopeless, die you bitch, die! And he was pretty sure he had told himself that, more than a million times already but he still couldn't die and be over and done with it, since, truth be told, he wasn't done and over it, much to his dismay.

"I'm stupid,"

Icy blue, steel cold as they may be, his eyes lost to the begging amethysts still pining for mercy's attention (Kannon, are you there?), all beauty and glory worn out by grief and total dejection. (He thinks.) The Kagetsukai let out a sigh himself, and pulled said Shinigami closer.

"You're not." He supplied his action, rubbing a comforting hand on Asato-kun's shoulder. Hmm, that didn't help much, he thought, sensing the poor inu shaking in his embrace again.

A sob. Oh Kami, he's crying gain, Tatsumi thought. Just when you thinnk he's stopped, he's at it again. Tears had a way of infuriating people, didn't they? He patted the mop of ebony on his left shoulder and he is gonna need a change of clothes after this, at the rate Tsuzuki's going.

"There, there," Actually, the talk he hoped for wasn't much of a success, as he recalls, since all he got out of the Shinigami was I'm stupid, and I'm hopeless. Tsuzuki had started falling to pieces long ago, and he was kind of frustrated that the empath, whom he depended on to keep Tsuzuki intact, sane, and in check, was of no help at all. He stands there and berates Tsuzuki, yes, but hell, they seem to be not talking to each other at all! If they could, especially Kurosaki-kun, they wouldn't look at each other nowadays. There was no reason he could see for them to be like that, and he wondered, ever so greatly, why.

He'll grow old if this went on.

"Tsuzuki-kun, please calm down. . .Tell me, why are you crying so much?"

A shake. A sigh. "Dammit Tsuzuki, tell me now!" Tatsumi lost his patience, and boy oh boy, did he lose it fast. Better cut donw on the caffeine, he reminded himself.

Wounded eyes stared at him as the shinigami drew away from his embrace. "You wuldn't understand." He said simply.

"No one will."

Tsuzuki ran.

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"Daikirai. . ." Caramel eyelids closed and weary, he hwhispered as his dream progressed fromt he first stage of conciousness, to the second stage of fantasy bordering insanity. Dreams often showed desires of people, reveries and delusions one wishes conciously, or subconciously, with the help of imagination and insanity. Insanity because no one can defeat a thosand grown men in an arena with a lion, a few shikigami, a fucking tyrannosaurus rex, and an abyss suddenly appearing underneath his stockinged feet, and while wearing nothing but that and a long shirt, with heavy Emo-Goth make-up. (Think My Chemical Romance's Helena Video's corpse ballerina clad in a featehery black dress.)_

The orbs kept moving underneath that encasement, and he looked so sweet with his mout shut, that Watari-chan was tempted to. . .you-know-what. But, he had someone else, so he better control himself. Bon was just so. . .so. . delectable. Like a chocolate moousse cake, chilled to perfection, topped with chocolate chips and syrup, with a bit of whipped cream and strawberry on a hot summer's day.

Heaven. . .

Fantasies behind, he carried the Empath through the halls, and right then and there, smack!

Alas!

He fell. They both did. The three of them sprawled on the floor, two groaning, one slumbering on, perturbed, maybe, but still dreaming, since it was rather exhausted from night time wanderings and musings of what could be, and what should be. Sleep left him and robbed him during the day.

"_Gomenasai desu," _The brunette started. _"Watari. . .chan? Eh!"_ He stopped. He had gotten up, and was offering a hand, when sudden realisation dawned on him and dropped his head a kick, the one like Tifa's in FFVII's Advent Children. And another tow-by-two punc, a drag, a kick, another kick, and a slap, for added effect. (What a realisation.)

"Asato-kun. . .That hurt. A lot." Watari groaned. He was leaning on his elbow, and it felt like he broke something. He tried to get up, but he glanced at Hisoka first. Will someone get him? The poor kid.

"You. . .okay?"

"Yeah. My head broke my fall." He flipped his flaxen hair with his free hand and shot Tsuzuki a glare that the older shinigami was shocked to see, and my, Watari, are we in a bad mood today, it's kind of. . .Shocking.

"Sorry. . ."

"Won't you at least help instead of apologising your head off!"

He held a hand out for Watari, but he only gave 'Soka-chan a frown and a guilty look, and he started fidgeting at that.

"Won't you help him?" Watari said through gritted teeth. "I think I broke something."

Tsuzuki only nodded, and finally, thank god, he bent over and picked up the dear boy. "Here." He held him out to Watari. "I. . .need to go somewhere. Real important. Sorry."

Now, he was definitely apalled. Tsuzuki! The nerve! Why. . he oughta. . damn it all to hell. He could only reach out with his broken wrist and aching arm to carry Hisoka.

At that, Tsuzuki scampered.

"I told you he hates me." Hisoka said, opening his eyes.

"Bon!" Watari let him down. The Empath stood in front of him, straightening his clothes, and helping Watari walk towards his lab. "Maybe. . .Well, I'm too annoyed to defend him this time."

"I have no idea why, but he. . he loses himself off, I know, since he tends to be emotional, and it helps a lot, but when he looks at me now. . he. . " Hisoka trailed off.

"Don't say anything else. I need some pills." The two blonds walked, silent, confused in Hisoka's case, all the way to Watari's lab.

_

* * *

"Daikirai!" He yelled as well. He looked at the bare sky, with the sun blinding him and boring in his arms, burning him as he spread out his arms like a cross._

"I wish. . . I only wish. . ." He mumbled and broke down to tears again, as he let himself go.

Chijou.

The smells, the sounds, the sanity he could grab. . .He adored the living. He wished to feel like them. Not like this, where he had to transfer energy just to be seen. He felt useles, and he felt like nothing. He felt like he wasn't there at all. Well, he wouldn't be if he stopped. He had to exert so much effort, yet he felt like it was uselss in the end. He tried, but he failed. Over and over, and now, he's falling again.

"I do not want to feel this anymore!" He clawed at his chest and fell to his knees.

__

Take me.

Standing up, he spread his arms again. Closed eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks, heart bursting, burning, beating as thogh he was dying, he let go.

__

And down he goes.

* * *

**to be continued. . .**

* * *

_**Chikai**_

(Close)

_by Aki Konoe_

**Plotmaster/s:** Aki Konoe

**Beta-master/s:** Aki Konoe

**Disclaimer/s:** I own nothing. . . Not even my soul.

**Translation/s:** _Daikirai---I hate you. (Correct me if i'm worng. Really)_

**Author's Note/s:** No food, no nothing, just plain music. I mean, I normally survive without it anyways. Food. . .? Hah! Okay, I love food, but I can survice without it. Three days, man! Three days, no food, no water. . Maybe a sip or two . .and no sleep. (I'm nocturnal.) Nada.

It's not the Deftones or Switchfoot playing anymore. It's My chemical Romance (I love yu Gerard Way!) Fall Out Boy, and mostly Screamo (but i'm not emo, really.) like Funeral For a Friend, and there's a lot of Greenday. and it's been so long since I updated at all. I've been really busy. Oh come on, don't give me that look! I was busy flying all the way back to the Philippines, from California, going back to my old school, fighting depression, anxiety, applying for college and now i'm hyperventilating. Help.

Sigh.

I'm huggin my bear, and I'm back to Vertigo by U2. I have a new MP3 player. Mum bought it for me. It's red, see!

Well, about the story, it had no plot. And now, god, it has. Damn. It's hard to let go now. Don't expect much fluff. Nor must you expect that I would be as didligent as before on uploagin since i'm growing old and i'm getting tired. I wrote this freaking chapter during my English class, well, half of it, since we started a new semester today and had nothing to do. . (it's November 7, right? Thought so.) and boi, do I have a lot to tell you guys! But don't kill me if this kinda sucks. I'll write up the fourth real soon!

Again, the story. Ahem. This time, tsuzuki falls into his abyss once more. Notice why I repeated abyss? I'm practically giving this away! Go figure what he did in the end!

Again, I claim not to be sane.

**Questions from the insane mind of Aki Konoe**

**1.** Who loves My Chemical Romance?

**2.** Do you have a band?

**3.** What music do you guys listen to? ( I wanna get to know my readers more.)

**4.** Who wants to upload and do all the work of editing for me? (Coz I have no time.)

**5.** Do you want me to continue tormenting them?

**6.** Where do you live? (Don't worry, I'm not a stalker. I was just wondering.)

**7.** Have you figured out what he did in the end? (Get this right, you get s star sticker! Or a plushie. Or a sketch of anything you request. I am an artist, y;know. I do my own mangas.)

**8.** Will you read my manga if I get to publish it? Will you order a volume from moi? (Coz we'll only be putting it online.. until someone requests for the volume..)

So, **_REVIEW_**, or else, i'll die. You don't want that now, do you?


End file.
